


Breaking at the Cracks

by onlyweknow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brain Damaged Jim, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyweknow/pseuds/onlyweknow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was all for the thrill of the chase, of course, but in the end, I created you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking at the Cracks

**Author's Note:**

> Smooth Criminal is the song that Jim plays from his phone, in case you lovely people didn't know. But, please read fic with the song "Dreaming of Jim" which you can find in the link.

[Smooth Criminal](http://www.mediafire.com/?ejrbnscd452nn2n)

[Dreaming of Jim](http://www.mediafire.com/?nrlurgx7b29qgrs)

> _“So they came into the outway, it was Sunday – what a black day.”_

Rich was slowly coming to as the sound of music reached him. Judging by his position, he was laying down, probably on a stone floor or the ground, even. It was cold and hard, his bones aching from stiffness. His ears rung as he sat up, groaning from the effort and the creaking of his limbs. It was much too bright, colors dancing against his lids – he didn’t dare open them just yet.

> _“And he had no way of knowing, of the suspect or what to expect.”_

Who in the world could possibly be playing that? And where was he? He struggled to remember, only getting bits and pieces of memories flashing through his mind. They were all too blur to even recognize, and it made the back of his head throb to even try. The only thing that was clear was a name, his own name: Richard Brooke. Propping himself up on his elbows, he attempted to find out where he was located.

> _“Mouth to mouth resuscitation, sounding heartbeats, intimidations.”_  
> 

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, his stomach did flips. The room was small, with no entrances or exits. Lights beat down on him from above, and every wall was painted completely white. Minus the one directly in front of him, which was covered by a large mirror. At least, it should have been a mirror, but the Rich inside wasn’t quite the same. The real Rich wore a hospital gown, which went just past his knees and tied in the back. The one in the mirror wore a dark blue suit, stained red with what he could only assume was his own blood. His face was twisted in an evil grin, a phone held up in his hand. The music was blaring from its speaker.

“Richie, are you okay? So, Richie are you okay? Are you okay, Richie?”

Rich jumped as he spoke, not expecting any words to come from a mirror reflection. “Excuse me?”

“I asked you a question, it’s only common manners to answer when spoken to.” The phone made a slow crackling noise, the song fading out to a complete stop. “Oh poo, time’s up, it would seem. How ironic.”

Pushing off his elbows, he stood up to face his doppelganger. “Y-you wouldn’t mind me asking a few questions of my own?” His voice shook with uncertainty. This was too strange to comprehend, even if he had all of his memories intact. Their voices melded together when they spoke, their similarity making Rich think twice on who was speaking. But this man’s had a dark edge to it, and he prayed the murderous look in his eyes was not reflected in his own.

“You mean you haven’t figured it out already? I’m disappointed, I thought you’d be better than that.”

Eyebrows scrunched up in a scowl, he let out the burst of air he hadn’t realized he was holding in. “I can’t say I would be asking if I did.”

“Ho hum, for someone that could play my double, you don’t share my intelligence at all. So boring, so dull. I assumed it was quite obvious, our little predicament.” His eyes scanned the perimeter of the mirror, looking for possible ways to escape his personal prison. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, when the fuck are you going to let me out?!” His shout echoed in the small space, causing Rich’s heart to beat wildly in his chest.

“Who are you?”

“Why, I’m you of course!” He giggled under his breath at Rich’s look of confusion. “Come on now, don’t be daft. Does the name ‘Jim Moriarty’ ring a bell?”

A sharp pain seared through his head at the name. The sound of a ticking time bomb in an abandoned pool. Light reflected off the crown jewels. The cold metal of handcuffs around his wrists. A gun in his hand, pointed towards his own mouth. Pulling the trigger. It was enough to knock him to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! Give the man a prize!” Jim knelt down in front of him, and he swore he could feel his breath against his face. “I’ll take that as a yes, my dear.”

“Piss off.”

“Temper, temper. You must have gotten that from Sebastian. Can’t have you mouthing off, it will give us away! And how awful it would be to ruin the game before I even got a chance to play. If I were you, I would keep that in check.”

Rich looked up at him, his eyes burning in their sockets. It wasn’t like him to use that kind of language, but there was something about Jim that made him so bloody angry, he felt like he’d burst. Everything in his body felt like it was on fire, but his head was the worst of all. His hands gripped at it, dangerously close to ripping pieces of hair out. “What.. exactly is it.. that you want?” he forced out through sharp gasps.

“Finally asking the right questions! Well, I was a very naughty boy, shooting myself in the noggin like I did. It was all for the thrill of the chase, of course, but in the end, I created you.” Jim gestured at his shuddering body, his lip curling in disgust. “Originally, you were just a concept. A character I played to fool all of London I was innocent. And how fooled they were! But when that bullet shot through me, I did a little nerve damage. There’s a reason I always left the aiming to Seb. With that unfortunate mistake, you became real. And by some cruel act of fate, were given control of my otherwise genius brain.”

“So what you’re saying is, I’m not real. I’m a figment of your imagination, but I get to live your life? And this entire conversation is all in my head?”

“My head, but you get the idea. And the only people that know about that are youuuu and meeeee.” His voice took on a sing-song tone, his head rocked back and forth on his shoulders. Pain rushed through his head again, this time causing Rich to fall backwards. “That rush you’re experiencing? All me! Lovely isn’t it? As boring as life can be, it’s chemical reactions like these that make it worth living. Pain, adrenaline, fear. I thrive for it, but you don’t get much of that in here. I’m just an idea, a thought manifested into my original self. I quite miss having a body, though.”

Jim knocked on the mirror, a small crack appearing in the middle. A single drop of blood appeared on his knuckle, which he looked down to inspect. He raised it to his mouth, his tongue lapping up the red liquid. Eyes rolled up to look at Rich again, with an ethereal red glow. “And I think it’s about time I take it back.”

Suddenly, the mirror burst apart, shards scattering across the floor around him. He was writhing in pain, clutching at the bits of glass that had embedded themselves in his face from the blast. He felt Jim’s cold hands close tightly around his neck. Jim’s hands? But he was in the mirror. This was in his head, it wasn’t real. He shook back and forth, trying to get him off. This isn’t real, it’s all a dream, it wasn’t real. Rich was fading, not getting enough air to his lungs. He’s gotta stop him, he’s real, he’s real, he’s real..”

~

“HE’S REAL, HE’S REAL, HE’S REAL.”

Sebastian jumped up out of the rickety hospital armchair at the sound of Rich’s screams, crossing the room in only two long steps. He grabbed a hold of his shoulders, shaking him gently to bring him out of his nightmare. It was the fifth time this week it’s happened. His doctors said it was normal for someone suffering the type of brain damage he’d inflicted on himself, but it was gradually becoming worse. Looking in his eyes, all he could see was the fog of terror. Jim never got scared. He manifested that same fear in others, making people cry out in desperation and beg for mercy. But this wasn’t his Jim anymore, and he feared it never would be. A doctor accompanied by two nurses threw open the door at the sound of his screams, but Sebastian simply shook his head at them. They left just as quickly as they came.

He wrapped his arms around the broken man tightly, holding him in place so he wouldn’t do anything rash. There were times he’d come back to find his wrists cut up, blood soaking the hospitals sheets, and he couldn’t risk losing him. This fragile thing, this child-like creature that was always so close to fading away. He’d keep him forever, even if it meant he had to stay like this. Rich began to still in his embrace, silence falling back over the room. His breathing regulated to normal, his tears soaking through his shirt. He pulled back to look at him. “I’m sorry. Again.”

“Don’t be. Water?” Sebastian’s voice was gravely, more so than usual. He was tired, but he managed to not look the part.

The side of Rich’s mouth turned up in a forced grin. “That’d be great.”

When Sebastian walked out of the room, he didn’t hear Jim giggle. He didn’t hear the closet door open, or Jim changing into the single Westwood suit that hung there. Clever Sebastian, always prepared for the best possible outcome. He’d buy him a shiny new toy for it. But before that, he simply must tie up some lose ends. It’s been far too long.

By the time he came back, the room was empty, and the curtains were blowing in the wind through the open window.

For the first time in months, Sebastian Moran smiled. “Fuck you, you mad bastard.”

> _“Will you tell us that you’re okay?  
>  There’s a sign in the window, that he struck you – a crescendo Annie.  
>  He came into your apartment, he left the bloodstains on the carpet.  
>  Then you ran into the bedroom, you were struck down, it was your doom.”_  
> 

> _“You’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, a smooth criminal.”_


End file.
